


Angst essen Seele auf

by bluetears07



Series: Angst vor der Angst [1]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Family Dynamics, Friendship, Implied Relationships, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetears07/pseuds/bluetears07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolfgang and Sun spend time bonding over the differences between brothers by choice and those related by blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angst essen Seele auf

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot get the idea of Sun/Felix out of my head. I wanted to explore why I think this pairing interests me, so I wrote this. There may be more (explicit) pieces in the future. Not sure I fully understand how all things 'senseate' function yet, but this is my interpretation. Includes: Aromantic Pansexual Wolfgang, Demiromantic Demisexual Sun and Heteroromantic Bisexual Felix.

Sometimes, to fill the silence of solitary confinement, Sun opens her mind and lets everything wash over her in great crashing waves. Succumbing to the sensory overload of the others’ constant cacophony of noise and emotions and blurred memories, each one demanding equal attention. The warmth of a summer sun in San Francisco, the chatter on Capheus’ matatu, the swaths of color on Kala’s commute. Every sharp burst drowns out her anger, her fear, until the chaotic symphony of six other minds overflows into her very veins. She tries to hold fast to her own desires but they seem lesser, a half remembered accompaniment, diminished in the wake of the others clamoring for help. They become a beautiful distraction, one without the bitter taste of nothingness. A chance to protect those most deserving. 

But then, without thought or prompting, her mind settles on Wolfgang. 

With him the melody stays the same, matching her own so seamlessly. She starts to forget where her self ends and his begins. A quiet plucking of a single string that hums between them, reverberating back and forth until the feedback becomes the sound again and both lose track of who began it. A continuation of the self rather than an extension. Not another identity layered over her own but one where both empathy and understanding intimately intertwine. Effortless. As if he had always been there, patient and quiet and full of the same unrelenting rage.

No obligation to save, to help, to fight in his stead. 

He needs no savior. 

A friend? Perhaps, but so does Sun.

 

Seething, Sun wrenches her arms free from the guards as they shove her back inside the empty cell. She slumps against the plaster wall, drawing her knees to her chest. The sound of her lawyer’s droning voice tumbles around in her head; the police continue to refuse to open a murder investigation, satisfied with the evidence that her father committed suicide.

Another crime Joong-Ki will successfully pin on his family.

Unpunished. 

One of her knuckles pops.

With an eerie clarity she feels a dark tendril reach out from deep inside her mind, beckoning to her with something familiar and, surprisingly, familial. The compulsion to tug it overcomes her, allowing it to vibrate through her entire body. 

The scent of antiseptic fills her nose.

Sun stands beside Wolfgang, blinking against the onslaught of bright white walls and morning sunlight. He sits hunched in an unforgiving metal chair, elbows digging into thighs. Glancing up, he gives a short nod before turning back to resume his quiet vigil. She follows his gaze. 

Thin and wan, swimming in blankets and sterile tubing. The sharp contours of the young man’s face seem oddly pieced together and yet fascinating. She notices scars, old and new, one snaking down his jaw and neck, and wonders how he got them. Wonders if any match her own. Twin creases, still faint, frame his mouth. He smiles too much, too easily, too broadly, with a thousand and one variants. The thought blunts her anger. She idly imagines what he would look like awake, more animated and vivid than the placid expression currently weighing down his features. 

A name comes to mind. Felix. 

She takes a tentative step closer.

“Brother by choice,” she repeats Wolfgang’s words. A rush of strange affection swells inside her chest, spreading a long forgotten warmth to the very ends of her fingers and toes. She struggles to fully embrace the complexity of the feeling mingling so readily with her own. The sweetness of it is too alluring. Perhaps once she looked at Joong-Ki with something similar. Back when they used to talk. Before her mother fell ill. Before she realized her father favored him in all things. When the world was simple and safe within the walls of her childhood home. “Very wise,” she tells Wolfgang with a smile, a weak reflection of the one he wears as he huffs out a laugh.

Sun reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting him into her mind. 

“That man is not your brother,” he scoffs, disgusted, kicking a leg out as he shifts uncomfortably in the chair. She can feel the dull echoing sensation of pins and needles in her left leg as the blood returns to the limb. He rubs at his knuckles tenderly, a ghost of the injuries littering her own hands.

“It is dangerous to assume we deserve love from our families.” Sun circles around to the opposite side of the bed. With the others a stark line divides her from their closest companions, a subtle disharmony in how they are differently wired that allows her to observe and feel without the depth of their love bleeding over. “But a family of our own making…” she considers aloud, turning the idea over in her head. Staring down at Felix, seeing him through Wolfgang’s eyes, so like her own, taps into an instinctual yearning rarely felt. The barriers fall away.

“Freely given,” Wolfgang murmurs to himself, distractedly reaching out to readjust Felix’s blankets. She watches the way his fingertips casually graze the back of the man’s hand. Reassuring. Comforting. Possibly she only imagines the tickle along the pads of her fingers.

“Yes.” 

The sudden pang hits her square in the chest, squeezing her heart. She thinks of Kala’s pain, the heartbreak over what could have been and the fear of what is still to come. A series of images flicker before her eyes. Each one coupled with a wild array of emotions. The profound and mundane all run together in muted colors, pounding music and cluttered rooms, with Felix at their epicenter. The relief and love Wolfgang buried deep inside when he realized he had found a friend for life. A little boy with a streak of courage bigger than his body should ever have afforded him. Hiding his frailty and awkwardness, standing up for the child no one wanted. 

She sees fragments of each of them in him. The same drive for life, the inexorable need to keep fighting, adapting, redefining.

The friend she always wanted but instead had to mold herself into becoming.

“He protected you.” 

Before she can rein the urge in, Sun gingerly tucks a lock of Felix’s hair behind his ear. The touch is nothing but a vague impression of Wolfgang’s sense memories piecing together an approximation of the texture and weight. Fuzzy around the edges, as if her hands should be bigger, broader, but nonetheless real. 

“He might look scrawny but he’s scrappy,” he jokes with a lopsided smirk.

A thousand recollections continue zipping through her mind as Wolfgang shuffles through them at random. Felix always smiling, always laughing at his own faults, bolstering his friend, so much bravado and hope despite their circumstances. 

He means everything.

“Loyal.” 

A part of the affection Wolfgang shared lingers, slowly knitting itself into her heart. It feels different than before, unlike the others and their cloying love, their base lust and all their overwhelming thoughts. Created for her alone, blossoming from within, protected from distortion or influence of anyone else. 

“I understand.” She holds his gaze. “He is worth fighting for.” 

She watches the memories of Felix rapidly growing into his own skin. Changing from a little boy, quoting movies with exuberance and charm, to a young man trying desperately to flirt with older women while his best friend eggs him on. A private moment of him and Wolfgang drunkenly fumbling to get each other’s clothes off after a night out. Until finally Felix, only a few days ago, singing along to the radio while cutting keys, using the blanks as drumsticks for an elaborate solo that has Wolfgang in stitches. 

“Even if he has a strange sense of humor,” she says with a knowing grin.

Wolfgang laughs, the sound full and clear as he nods in agreement.


End file.
